The Rebellion in the Cevennes, an Historical Novel. Vol. II.Tieck, Ludwig
History
The Rebellion in the Cevennes, an Historical Novel. Vol. II.
Tieck, Ludwig
France -- History -- Insurrection of the Camisards, 1702-1710 -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Historical fiction
The merry-making, that to-day, once in motion, would have lasted
longer, had it not been suddenly interrupted and broken up by a
terrible outcry. The fearful sound proceeded from the summit of a
pointed cliff, which rose almost perpendicularly over the green sward
to the scene of the joyous tumult. All eyes turned quickly thither, and
they beheld a demoniacal figure with upraised, extended arms, face,
head, and body coloured and besmeared with blood. Once again the
lunatic shouted, and then ran and precipitated himself down the steep
rock into the arms of the brethren. It was the wrathful Ravanel. "Curse
you! curse! ye apostates!" screamed he, "as if mad; that ye thus forget
the Lord! Lamenting, mourning, discoloured with the blood of our
brethren, of the enemy and with my own, shed in the holy cause, I
returned to summon ye to vengeance, and I find the idolators here in
the heathenish dance round the golden calf. Thus Moses descending from
Sinai, in his wrath broke the tables of the law, as I now in my burning
zeal, curse the bond that unites me to ye, ye impious ones!"
They tried to pacify the zealot. Stephen had long since replaced his
pipe, the dancers stood at an embarrassed distance, and Eustace, who
could as quickly turn from prayer to the dance as from this to that,
was already sunk in profound meditation. "My brother," shouted the
infuriated man anew, "has been executed to-day at Florac, ten believers
have suffered martyrdom with him; I wished to rescue them, but have
been beaten back with my brethren with a great deal of bloodshed, and
in the mean while we forget our God, our misery, our faith, thus
scandalously bring curses on yourselves, voluntarily draw down the
malediction of heaven, the scornful laugh of hell voluntarily upon
ye,--does no fire then fall down upon the scum? does not the earth open
and swallow the iniquitous bands? Howl! howl! ye laden with sin, and
roll in the dust, smite on your stony hearts and be contrite before
the Almighty, that peradventure his mercy may awaken and a look of
grace from the fiery wrath of his eye may light upon ye."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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